About Me

I'm a married momma of 2 funny and active boys - one very talkative 9 year old (the kid, born Feb '06), and one busy 5 year old (baby E, born Sept '10). I'm also a social worker with an unusual amount of knowledge about pregnancy for someone who's never experienced it firsthand. This blog is the telling of my journey to and through motherhood, with some sarcasm thrown in.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The Cubicle Chronicles: Chapter Three

Naw, girl. I got my candy stashed in my bible at home. That way I know nobody gonna be botherin' it. It's safe there, no doubt. (Now, that's just funny. Funny ironic, more than funny haha. But funny still. Also? I believe you.)

Yeah, whore. You get yo ass in here. 'Cause you know that's why you gotta have surgery done, 'cause you a whore. I mean, I didn't say that to her, but that's what I was athinkin'. All I did say to her was' quit bein' dirty then you wouldn't have to have this kinda surgery no more". (Holymotheryoudidnot saythattoapatient??!!!!!)

Hey! You all got many dead people over there? Can I come see 'em? I like the dead people. They can't be talkin' back to ya. I like it when things are quiet. (Yeah. Me, too.)

You know what my favorite position is? Any one where I can take my shoes off. (an interlude where I intentionally tuned out because I thought I was going to gouge my ears and cause permanent hearing loss. Then, I accidentally started listening again much MUCH too soon.) But sometimes, he wants to get in to one where I can't breathe. It's one where his belly rolls up and gets in the way. But he likes to look at me. I mean who don't?! (Me. I do not like to look at you. Or hear you. I am willing to bet, also, that I'm not the only one. And please refrain from talking about yourself being naked at work.)
If you ain't lookin' nappy at least some days, you ain't livin' life right. (I'm not even sure what this means.)
Why the hell is e'rebody here always trying to get in my bid-ness and make comments. (Um, well, I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's because you're talking about your "bid-ness" really damn loud. All.The.Damn.Time. But, like I said, that's just a silly little guess.)

And then he asked me if he needed to shave. I told him he could if he wanted to. He said he didn't want to shave if he didn't have to. And then I realized that he meant down there. I assured him we'd shave him down there if he needed it. He said he didn't want nobody down there with a razor. So I had to remind him that we were going to be down there with a scalpel. That shut him up quick. I don't think he'll shave though. (The conversations people have are sometimes simply unique to a medical setting. At least I hope they are.)
Today's Lesson is brought to you by the (original) author of most of this post: If you're in a relationship where you feel like you're ugly everyday and you just cry all the time, it ain't the right one for you. (So, some of the things that come out of her mouth do make sense/aren't offensive.)